


when no one's watching

by StringedVictory



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Background Basira/Daisy - Freeform, Gen, Multi, background jon/martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StringedVictory/pseuds/StringedVictory
Summary: "Sorry," he says, sucking his teeth in pain. "Haven't had to use these legs since the seventies.”Jon leaves an eyewitness. Basira gets an exclusive. Martin is just glad to be back.





	when no one's watching

When the body in the panopticon crumbles, everything falls silent. Or at least, silent to the ear. Senses the Archivist did not know he had continue to twitch.

"Do you want my statement?” says a soft voice, at last.

"No," the Archivist responds, automatically.

"Thank you," the man says from the floor. "I felt it was the right thing to offer, but-“

"You should rest," says the Archivist - says Jon. "Hell, you should retire. Somewhere quiet and private.”

"i'd like that," he whispers. His voice is so familiar and so novel that Jon almost cries. It's a reedy baritone, lighter and softer than anything that has come out of that mouth in years. "This isn't over, you know.”

"I know," Jon says softly. Martin gives his hand a fierce squeeze, but says nothing.

"I only know what I can remember. I don't think it - he - any of it stayed in my brain.”

"Probably for the best," Jon murmurs.

"But I'll help," he says, voice ever so slightly steadier.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to," Elias Bouchard insists. He is trying to get to his feet. Jon reaches a hand out to stop him, and he bats it away. He stands up for nearly a full second before his knees lock and he collapses .

"Sorry," he says, sucking his teeth in pain. "Haven't had to use these legs since the seventies.”

When they reach the door of Jon’s office, Basira is waiting with a gun. She aims it carefully at Elias’s eyeless face. Jon knows with certainty that if she were to fire, she’d hit her target effortlessly and precisely. He does not fear for himself or for Martin, who is propping up the hollowed-out man’s limp form.

He does, however, realize with a sudden lurch that she’s missing some rather crucial information.

“Basira, stop,” he blurts. “It’s not him, don’t-”

“I will if I have to, Jon,” she says sharply. “You,” she adds, with a jerk of her chin at Elias. “No sudden movements.”

“Basira,” says Elias in a choked sigh. “Basira, I-”

“Tell me what you did,” she snaps, and Jon hears more of himself- of what he has become- in those few words than he has ever heard in her before. It thrills him, and terrifies him, and as he watches her eyes focus - 

he sees through her own eyes as she lines up the shot-

He cannot stop himself. “No, it’s - it’s different,” he starts to say, and suddenly it’s spilling out of him directly into Basira’s brain. Jonah Magnus. The panopticon. The Lonely. Peter, and what… happened to Peter. His own joy at the touch of Martin’s hand. Elias Bouchard, junior filing clerk at the Magnus Institute.

“Oh,” gasps Basira. She lowers her weapon slowly, holsters it, and sits down at Jon’s desk, breathing heavily. Martin starts to say something, but doesn’t manage to get any words out.

“I’m sorry, Basira, I-” says Jon softly.

She waves one hand limply and buries her face in the other. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine. I knew you’d do it sooner or later, though.” 

The words sting Jon in a way he knows he deserves. “It sort of… the knowledge wanted out,” Jon says, acutely aware of how weak the excuse sounds on his lips.

She nods gravely. “I knew it would hurt. I wasn’t expecting it to feel _good_. Not thrilled about that combination, if I’m honest. I think it comes from something… he was doing.” 

“It does,” says a soft voice from the doorway, somewhere around Martin’s armpit. “Though what exactly he did is beyond me.”

Basira gives a long, shuddery sigh, but continues addressing Jon alone. “But it was… relevant. So thanks. Or something. Otherwise I’d have gotten… overzealous with him.” She inclines her head toward the door.

“Can I sit down?” says Elias.

“Oh,” says Martin sheepishly. “Yes. Of course.” He guides Elias to the swivel chair opposite Basira, though he moves it around to the side of the desk just in time to avoid slotting Elias into a tableau of conversation. “Anything else I can get-” He stops, looking at Jon.

Jon nods. “You can pop out for a moment,” he says, regaining a measure of control over his voice. “I don’t think there’s any immediate danger here.”

“Glass of water, please,” says Elias.

“And for me,” murmurs Basira.

“Right,” says Martin. “Be right back.” Jon follows him to the doorway, brushing fingertips down his sleeve and clasping his hand briefly as he exits. Jon stays there, leaned against the doorframe, leaving the pair at the desk to each other’s company.

For a while the three of them just occupy the space, breathing one another’s air uneasily. 

“Nice to meet you,” Basira says at last, and the stillness resolves into mere quiet. Her voice is perfectly even.

Elias murmurs his assent. “You too, Basira. Er- Ms. Hussain? You’re right, we’ve never-”

She smirks. “Basira. Like hell am I going to call you Mr. Bouchard.”

He returns the smirk, and they fall silent again.

Martin returns and presses himself to Jon in the doorway, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. Basira glances up, takes in the scene, smiles softly, and returns her gaze to the far wall as Martin begins to pour water from a pitcher into plastic cups.

“Here you go,” he says gently, curling the cup into Elias’s hand. He places Basira’s on the desk, at her elbow. They drain their glasses while Martin returns to kissing Jon’s face.

Basira leans over and places her hand atop Elias’s, and he flinches before she draws it back.

“Sorry, I-” she begins warily.

“Just couldn’t see it coming, is all,” he says with a weary smile. “Really, there’s nothing left for me to see out of, all the mind reading stuff was him.”

“And he’s gone,” she says. It’s a statement, but she listens for his confirmation all the same.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “Though I’m not really sure how to prove it. I don’t know, think of a number between one and-”

“Jon knows it,” she cuts in, “and now I do too, I guess, so that’s settled.”

“Ah.” He sighs.

“Can you help?” There’s no pleading in her voice, only a simple inquiry of fact.

“Yes. I’ve already told Jon I would.”

“Right.” She glances over at Jon and Martin, still standing, still entwined. Their embrace is tender yet soft, and she feels her face grow tight as she pushes away tears. _Daisy can handle herself_, she forces herself to think. 

Jon meets her eyes and the tears almost come. “No statements. I told him so.”

“Good,” she says with a nod. “In fact, why don’t you two… make yourselves scarce. I don’t want you catching a whiff of… whatever he tells me, and coming back for a treat.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” says Jon.

“You heard Basira,” says Martin, tugging at his hand.

“We’ll find her,” says Jon, almost inaudibly, as he follows Martin. Basira wonders just how loud she’s been thinking.

“So, should I….” Elias cuts through her musings, and she whirls back to face him.

“I’ll interview you,” she says, rummaging in Jon’s desk drawer for a pen and pad.

“Good plan,” he says. “Even if I was used to writing where I can’t see, I’m not sure how… coherent I could make it.”

“All right.” She clicks the pen and opens the pad to a fresh sheet. “But if you call me Detective, I reserve the right to kick your teeth in.”

“I think that’s very fair,” says Elias, and they both laugh for the first time in ages.

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning bit just sort of.... happened in a group chat. Then Basira took over. As well she should.
> 
> Also, my exposure to Ben Meredith's normal voice comes via the Stellar Firma Q&As, so I figure Elias Bouchard sounds like that plus forty years of unspeakable trauma.


End file.
